


Serpent-Like Suggestion

by brodylover



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Agender Character, Alcohol, Brothels, Canon-Typical Violence, Dogs, F/F, M/M, Nonverbal Communication, Past Abuse, Religion, Religious Conflict, Slow Build, Transgender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-08-17 14:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8146756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: there wasnt enough DD fic out there so I started some. This is just an intro for the Abomination to join the roster. If continued will have some Highwayman/Abomination and Graverobber/Plague Doctor.





	1. The Hamlet is Just Ahead

It had become a tradition of sorts, the townspeople and mercenaries crowding around the edge of town, watching the stagecoach draw near. The heroes were cheered in their presence, all but the those needing rest and healing, and they were allowed to head towards the front of the small audience, it being well known that they would need to see their new companions first.

Miss Indera, their employer, was there as well, holding a notebook of some kind, scrawling down notes and checking through the crude maps they had sketched for her of her ancestor’s estate. She was there to pick out the best and the brightest of the new recruits, even though at this point, they needed more bodies than skill.

There were only five of them, and three were out from the last expedition. They’d need more, the whole stagecoach, but she was looking over the newcomers with a discerning eye; one they couldn’t afford.

She shook her head at the man with the sparkling outfit, too skin tight and face hidden behind a mask. This wasn’t the place for someone whose skill rested in a sharper wit then their blades. A leper, also masked, was easily recognized by the thick bandages that felt stagnant under shining gold armor. He could stay. A plague doctor, nimble and hidden under robes, was also acquired, her head held high as her pride shown as brightly as the leper’s armor. That wouldn’t last.

Disarin pushed up to her and put an hand on her shoulder, pointing out the man that she had decided against, the last of the potentials. She had hardly given the strange man a glance before deciding against him.

Miss Indera glared at him, reminding him that she was in charge with a single look. Disarin should have feared her, but he was the one who’d gone into those depths, she hadn’t, and he’d robbed people twice as becoming as herself. This wasn’t his place to put in his say.

He didn’t stand down though, just pointed more strongly, more certainly.

She looked back at the stranger who was pulling himself back into the stagecoach. His shoulders were raised and his back was hidden by a tattered cloak, and much of it had been pulled over his face, so he was still an enigma to them.

“Come down here.” Miss Indera rolled her eyes. “Let us take a look at you.”

The figure stiffened but did not turn.

“Yes, you.” She motioned to his back and slowly he turned and wandered down to the crowd, flighty and hesitant. He kept his head down, some long strands of black hair falling from his hood. He was barefoot, a beggar most likely, a body in need of some cash more than adventure or fame. “What’s your name?”

The man did not answer. Instead he started to shake. To the untrained eye it would look like he was sobbing, but Disarin did not see any tears land on his cloak. The man was shaking from fear. With the horrors down below, he was certain that he had made the wrong decision.

“Fine, you don’t have a name, I get it. What are your skills?”

The figure looked around, eyeing the crowd and still said nothing.

Miss Indera set one hand on her hip, looking him up and down and not liking what she saw. “Look, do you want to go back on the stagecoach?”

At that he shook his head furiously and then tightened in on himself, as if he could make himself disappear completely. He had nowhere else to go, not out of this town, not from under Miss Indera’s gaze. He shifted uncomfortably instead.

“Let’s see you at the very least.” She sighed. She didn’t have that much patience, especially in a crowd.

The man went still, pitiful, and then very slowly, pulled the cloak away from his face. It wasn’t a bad face, but everyone in their audience gasped at the sight of it, many taking a step back. Ursa, the vestal beside Disarin, actually darted away from the crowd, as if this man was too much for her. He raised a hand, tried to cover the offending mark on his face, but everyone had already seen the massive A branded into his flesh. The symbol for the Andericun Penitentiary. Only madmen and monsters were ever seen coming from there.

“So you’re from there, huh?” Miss Indera was taken aback, visibly so, but she was strong enough to hide that fact, “At least that means there’s something to you. Released or escaped?”

  
He shuffled, pulling his hood back up to hide his face. His eyes were dark over his strong nose and there was a dusting of stubble over his chin and head, where he’d been shaved for the branding. It must have been recent then.

  
“Escaped.”

“Good, you’re not one of the bad ones then.” She turned to the other two recruits. “Alright, you head over to the tavern, I’ll be giving you a briefing and then we can get started.”

She glanced back over to Disarin, “And I want you there too. I’ve got some things I want to discuss with you privately.”

  
Disarin nodded, knowing that what she was going to say wasn’t going to be good. It was his own fault really, wasn’t supposed to question the boss.

  
The crowd dispersed and, while most of the townspeople returned to their homes and workplaces, Disarin could see his compatriots lag a bit, watching the newcomers head to the lights of the tavern. At the back of them, watched as if he were going to slaughter them all in a minute or two, was their new abomination, head down and a bit slower than the rest. He acted like a beaten dog, wary of every look and word.

  
The Caretaker slammed a hand onto Disarin’s shoulder, making him jump. The man’s teeth were half crooked half rotted out and the grin on his face was plastered on, never seeming to slide. The dark circles under his eyes were so dark it was clear he hadn’t slept since taking on his position, and Disarin would have been shocked to find if he was sane at all anymore.

  
“Good man.” He cackled in his shrill voice, “Got to throw a dog a bone, haven’t you?”

  
The newcomer may have acted like one, but he was no dog and Disarin pulled his shoulder from the Caretaker’s grip, glaring at him all the while.

  
“Better get him well trained, would be such a pity if he killed you and all your companions.”

  
Disarin growled at him, something carnal in his own throat. He didn’t take kindly to what the Caretaker was saying. He was sure that their new members would give them no issue, none of them.

  
“Cat got your tongue, little thief?” Disarin would have punched him in that wicked grin if he weren’t already in trouble with Miss Indera. “Better a cat than a dog, I’d say, but I’d say a lot more if this town wasn’t falling. Fret not, I’m sure dying at the hands of your pet monster will be much kinder than what you’ll find in the depths.”

  
Disarin didn’t pull back as he shoved the Caretaker out of his way, not worried about how he may run into someone else from the strength of his push. He heard the man curse and slip in the mud at the edge of town, but didn’t bother to look back at him. He trudged his way after the others, heading in the direction of the tavern.

  
The stranger at the back of the back glanced back at him, eyes sparkling from under his hood. He was a man in there, not some monster, not some beast. Disarin knew he’d made the right choice and smiled at him, hoping the expression reached his eyes as his mouth was well hidden behind his scarf. The abomination straightened slightly, eyes widening under his hood, and quickly turned away to follow the others.

  
It would be work, but Disarin was certain this newcomer would be a good ally in the darkness.


	2. laughter could be heard from the tavern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plague Doctor

As if traveling over hadn’t been stressful enough, Casslin babysitting a man ripe with disease and shying away from one that was scarred and terrifying and whimpering, they had all been invited to join in their little effort, all but the jester who had worked so hard at making the entire commute bearable. She wasn’t even interested in the treasure or fame that they were, she just came here for the research, had heard of all sorts of things crawling up from the depths. A few good samples and she could have the world not cleansed, but safe from the masses of illnesses that came up like dandelions.

 

She thought that the tavern might be the first place that needed cleansing. There were people bustling about, a brothel in the back that was loud regardless of what was going on, and not a single clean dish in the place. It was a petri-dish, in all aspects of the word aside from size. The patrons all took a step back from them, obviously keeping an eye on Wilhaer, their leper, and more than that on the creature wearing the face of the sad and frail man who had not given a name. That was smart, if Casslin hadn’t already spent days riding alongside them she would also want to get as far away from the pair as she could.

 

Their new employer, Miss Indera if the letter rang true, marched into the tavern and all but the animal sounds in the back rooms went silent. She had power here, more than anyone else. She ordered a round for the three of them and took a table, a small one, so that no one else could join them, no one but the man with the scarf wrapped around his face, who’s dark eyes shined and searched each person he passed as if mapping where any valuables were. He joined them as well, but had no drink purchased for him and showed no sign of wanting one anyway.

 

“Well, welcome to our little town, blah blah blah.” Miss Indera started and it was clear that she’d done this before. “Look, we all know why you’re here, you got a letter or read a sign or just needed some quick cash, well I’m telling you that that is here. It’s hard work but you get paid what you find as long as it isn’t part of the estate as well as earning cash from what I’ve accumulated already. You will live in town, there’s a nice little camp that your companions have set up, and there’s all sorts of entertainment here for you when you relax between missions. If you die your pay will go to one person of your choice.”

 

She handed her clipboard around to the group, as well as a white quill. It had been pristine once but it looked like it had fallen into a pool of blood at some point and some of the bristles had clumped together and turned pink after washing.

 

“Addresses and names here.”

 

Casslin wrote Hilsor, her brother’s, name and address before passing the clipboard over to the Wilhaer, who also wrote something quickly. The quiet man under his cloak just stared at the paper in confusion for a moment, making it clear that he either knew not how to read and write or that he had no one to send anything to. The paper was snatched away from him quickly enough and he was left without putting down anything.

 

“Tomorrow, I want you and you,” Miss Indera pointed at her and the nameless man, “To go down into the Weald. You’ll be going with Disarin here, as well as our Crusader, granted he is well enough and will agree to it. It’s a simple enough task, just go down there and map out the rooms so we can excavate later. That and survive. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”

 

Wilhaer raised his hand.

 

“Yes, I know, you’d like to go too, prove yourself. I just need to have some of the more experienced with you, I’m sure you understand. Two inexperienced with two who’ve done this before, I think that will be a good match.”

 

He nodded and went to his drink. The stranger with the A on his face just stared at his.

 

“Enjoy your night, as best as you can. After this one, I’m not sure how well you’ll be able to enjoy anything.”

 

Miss Indera stood, putting a hand on the bandit’s shoulder, hinting at him to follow her. They didn’t go far, almost out of earshot, but she had good ears and the stranger beside her had even better. Casslin could see his shoulders rise and his head fall as he heard what their new employer was saying.

 

“Look, I know you want to give the guy a chance, but you have to of noticed how nervous he makes everyone. He’s from the penitentiary, you’ve hear the stories, the man is a danger to everyone.”

 

Disarin squared his shoulder, raised his head, and looked her in the eye. He wasn’t a tall man, she stood a good head over him, but the stance was impressive and it was obvious she should have felt intimidated, instead she just waved him off.

 

“Fine, you want him, you can have him. Just remember, you are the one responsible for him. If he dies, that’s on you. If he kills anyone else, that’s on you.”

 

Disarin nodded and threw his hand up over his chest as if he were saluting. The motion was weak though, lazy, more a mockery than a sign of respect. Miss Indera rolled her eyes and left the tavern, tossing an extra coin to the bartender as she did.

 

Disarin looked back at their table, saw the strange man hunched over. A look of something came over him then. He was a strange one, as strange as the one that wore no shoes and hid his face. Most of them hid themselves in one way or another. Casslin just hoped that this wouldn’t be the bad kind of hiding, where they lied to one another and people died because of it. She didn’t think she could stand that happening again.

 

The door to the brothel opened though, before Disarin could make it back to them and the animal noise grew louder, sickeningly so. But a woman, not one of the workers there but a member of their party, obvious in her holding and dress, entered the tavern proper. She threw herself onto a chair and crossed her ankles on their table. With a smirk she reached out and took the thin man’s drink, lifted it to her lips, and drained it.

 

She tossed it back onto the table with a loud clack and grinned, her toothy smile all that showed from under her wide brimmed hat.

 

“So, you’re the fresh new souls here to wander into the darkness, to be consumed into the grave mouth of the eldest beast and sadistic cults that have burrowed into the undercroft of our little hamlet?” she spoke clearly, even as she smelled of sex and grave dirt. “A pleasure, Harmish is my name, I’ll be the one to bury and loot you.”

 

The terror on the strange man’s face was genuine, and Casslin even drew away from this mad woman who had graced them.

 

Wilhaer adjusted his mask. Casslin had seen him without it before, only once, and wished not to repeat the experience. “You really think it’s wise to scare us? We’re here to help you.”

 

Harmish cackled, swinging her feet down so that she could reach across the table and smack the leper lightly on the arm. “Oh come on, have a sense of humor. It might be bleak and black, but a sense of humor may be all we have. Lighten up.”

 

“Light in the darkness.” The man under the hood started to murmur, “Horror after horror. What keeps us going is fear of what follows us.”

 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Harmish looked at him and decided against it, turned instead to Casslin, “So, you heading out tomorrow? Can’t wait to hear the nightmares you see. Sure it will really be an eye opener.”

 

“The Weald.” Casslin nodded, the name didn’t mean anything to her.

 

Harmish whistled though, leaning back once more, hands clasped behind her head. “I’ll admit, I don’t envy you there.”

 

Casslin looked over, where Disarin had been, but found the space he’d occupied empty.


	3. Let them Arrive Unharried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Approaching the Wealds from The Abominations POV

Ay hadn’t slept well. It was warmer then Ayr cell had been, back at the penitentiary, and the ground was softer than the stone floors, but ay was never very good at sleeping, didn’t like what happened during it. Inside of their tent there was a long line of them all, sleeping, cots and bedrolls everywhere. Ay was didn’t supposed to be sleeping amongst them. The vestal, ay didn’t know her name, and glared at aym so badly, that ay had left. Better her get sleep than ay.

 

Sleep had come eventually, lying in the dirt next to the embers of their fire. Ay tried to ignore the recent memories plaguing ary mind and when ay woke in the morning, the others stirring awake, it didn’t seem ay had woken any of them up.

 

There was something on aym though and for a moment ay panicked, pulling the thing off and turning, ready to snarl and snap at it. But it was a blanket, worn through I places, burned in others. Someone had set it on ayr shoulders in the night, someone who smelled of cigars and gunpowder. Ay looked to the others as ay stood, holding the blanket around ayself, trapping what heat ay could. Not one one them claimed the blanket as their own and ay was afraid to ask, knowing they would just take it back.

 

They ate breakfast, all what they already had, leaving the three newcomers on their own. Indera had given Wilhaer some coin for the three of them, an advance on their pay and he purchased a modest supply for them, vegetables mostly, some dried meat. Ay didn’t know what to do with the vegetables, sure they were edible, remembered eating some in the past, but ay stuck closely to the meats.

 

A woman, strong in chest and arms joined them at one point, hailed and saluted by those who had come before. Her name was Oafsin, just from the sanitarium in town, it seemed, and she and the vestal spoke in hushed whispers, looking over at aym as they did. It would have been foolish for ay to believe that anything they were saying was good.

 

One conversation ended and another began, Oafsin pulling Harmish aside and talking to her. The grave robber had her hands on her chest and a devilish grin on her face. There was something broken about her. Surely there was something broken about all of them, but she displayed her brokenness of her face. She hit Oafsin on the shoulder, the comradely kind of hitting, ay reminded ayself, and did not seem to like what she was being told.

 

“She’s not coming with.” Harmish sat down near aym, not directly, not too close, but close enough for conversation. “No offence, but she thinks you might be the antichrist or something. I don’t think she or Ursa will want to travel with you. Rude is what they are. So I’m going to go with you instead, okay?”

 

Ay nodded.

 

“Come on, talk to me!” she shoved ayr shoulder. Ay jumped, hunched in on ayself. Ay hadn’t done anything wrong, right?And it was that comradely stuff, like hitting Oafsin.

 

“Sorry.” Ay murmured. Ayr throat hurt. “Thank you.”

 

“Don’t apologize for other people being assholes.” Harmish pulled herself to her feet. “I’m going to get some supplies, alright? Then we can go waltzing to our deaths.”

 

She left aym then, heading towards town proper, leaving aym to watch her with a bit of confusion. She was a strange one, not afraid to scare the others as if it weren’t a big deal. Ay wondered if ay should have come at all. Ay puller ayr knees to ayr chest and readjusted the blanket around ayself. Ay felt like ay were being watched, a normal but not pleasant feeling. In the penitentiary it had been the ‘doctor’s who watched aym, but here it was all of them.

 

The religious darted their eyes away when ay caught them, blessing themselves quickly. Ay had traveled over with Casslin and she didn’t give ay any mind at all, at least not openly. Only one of them looked at aym in a way that could be easily caught, and the man, Disarin, did so openly, leaning against a post, eyes dark as they watch ayr every move.

 

Ay bowed ayr head and tried to ignore it.

 

When Harmish returned, a bag full of provisions on her back and a dangerous look in her eye, they were ready. She lead them out of the hamlet and up a winding path, one that split off up ahead into five, each going off and vanishing into the underbrush.

 

Disarin was silent as he trudged through the growths, moving branches out of his sight, taking the lead. Behind him was Harmish, who wasn’t shutting up for a moment, telling them about all of the different ways that The Weald was going to kill them. Casslin was behind her, chirping in excitement from behind her mask and asking questions, getting far more interested in the death trap than she should have been. And ay took the rear, each step a tiny scrap slower than the last, fear of the darkness they were heading towards rolling up ayr spine. At some point, ay hadn’t feared the dark, but not ay knew that there was nothing trustworthy hiding amongst the shadows. Spiders and strange creatures as well, bandits and plant life come to life, bandits and undead, traveling in roving packs. Ay shouldn’t have come. The penitentiary had been hell, but it was a hell that ay knew  at the very least.

 

“Relax.” Harmish must have noticed how far behind ay had fallen, for the entire party had stopped to let aym catch up. “No need worrying yet. There’s enough in there to give you a heart attack without you riling yourself up for one.”

 

Ay shrank away at the remark. There had been stories about this place and what it did to people. Ay didn’t want to find out if they were true or not. From how Harmish spoke, it sounded like they were.

 

They kept moving, although now Harmish was a tad bit quieter in her frightening words. She must have known their effect.

 

“Forgot about your feet.” She said as they came upon a turn in the trail that had been barricaded by fallen logs and the like, cut open recently by an axe. The place still smelled like fresh cutting. Her eyes were on ayr feet though, not on the scenery. “I should have gotten you some shoes. Why aren’t you wearing any shoes? You’re going to get an infection pretty much immediately.”

 

Ay looked at ayr feet. The calluses on them were strong and the flesh was brown and black from grime.

 

“I’m sorry.” Ay murmured again. That was always a good start. “I can’t. I can’t wear shoes.”

 

She put her hands on her hips. “Can’t wear shoes? Ludicrous! Shoes are a necessity for any outfit!”

 

Ay pulled their shoulders tighter, dropping ayr head. Perhaps, if ay was quiet, if ay let her say what she wanted, she wouldn’t be too mad at aym. Ay really didn’t want anyone to be too angry with them.

 

She must have noticed, must have though ay weak or something, or that ay was scary, because she put a hand on ayr shoulder and spoke calmer, kinder. “Look, I just think shoes will protect you from a lot of the nastiness in there, alright? If anything happens, you let Disarin or I know, alright? We’ll get you to the sanitarium or Casslin here can take a look at it. And next time, we’ll come with shoes. Maybe some armor, too. You can’t go around in nothing but ill fitting plants and a cloak.”

 

Ay nodded. Anything to get her to stop touching aym, anything to get them all moving again.

 

Slowly she pulled away and they pushed past the cut open barricade to enter the Weald.


	4. Lessons to be Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle in the Warrens from the Grave Robbers POV

She hated the Warrens. She hated the Weald and the Cove and the Ruins and that place on the hill that she hadn’t even gone to yet, but she hated the Warrens the most. She’d really wanted Oafsin to go, not her, but there was nothing that she could do about that now so she would have to grin and bear it. She’d say that her being at the back of the party was a strategic point, no one with argue with her on that.

 

Casslin was just ahead of her, a bit too distracted and a bit too naïve for the journey. Harmish had spoken with her for only a little while, but she liked her, which could lead to trouble. There was a lot of danger out here, they’d already lost some of their group. It was best not to get close to anyone. She liked to get close though.

 

Ahead of her was the poor man without shoes. She felt bad for him, coming here with whatever he could scrounge up, more for not having anywhere to go than wanting the wealth. She wanted to know what made him tick, why he was so scared of everything that he shouldn’t have been. He seemed terrified of her, apologized too much, and now, walking with them, he was looking over his shoulder as much as he was looking out for danger.

 

Disarin was in the lead. He was a sharpshooter, the front wasn’t really his forte, but he was good at getting out of it in a second or two. Another strange one, she’d never actually seen his face. He always had that bandana hiding it and he didn’t eat with the rest of them.

 

He stopped, suddenly, and the nameless man almost walked into him. He held up his pistol with one hand, pointing with the other. There wasn’t much underbrush, the trail wasn’t too bad, but there were some trees on either side, some of which were corrupted and could poison with a touch. Harmish wasn’t sure if these were those that he was pointing at but, on closer look, he was pointing past them.

 

At a pack of wild dogs, malformed from their time here. Harmish spat. She hated dogs, hated these ones more than most. They had been corrupted more than the trees had and now they were walking, barking, syringes of infection and disease. They were fast and hard to hit and they wanted nothing but to give people the sickness that they carried.

 

“Alright, you see those shambling things over there, all gross with the bones and stuff?” she whispered to Casslin, not taking her eyes off of the dogs ahead. “Feel free to just do defense. Don’t let them bite you.”

 

“We’re going to kill them?” Casslin turned her head and it was a pretty funny sight, only being able to see one of her eyes. Harmish didn’t know how she did anything in that mask of hers. “They’re just minding their own business.”

 

“Yeah sure, for now. The moment they sniff us on the wind though? They’re going to be all over us, all teeth and nastiness.”

 

Dilasin lowered his pistol and fired, shooting one of the closer dogs in the leg. The bullet went straight through and the dog whimpered, turning, along with the others, towards them. The dog should have been slowed but it was more bone than it was flesh and it didn’t even limp as it raced towards them.

 

Harmish threw a dagger, getting it again in the shoulder. That wasn’t even the closest one to them anymore but that didn’t matter. She had to get it down. Kill them off one at a time, dodge and block as best as possible until they were all dead.

 

Casslin pulled out a bottle of something. The materials in it looked strange, murky. She quickly opened it and tossed in some kind of powder, making the concoction bubble and smoke. The vapor smelled like coffee beans and suddenly Harmish felt herself feel jittery and anxious, ready to hit something, get this whole thing over with faster.

 

The nameless man, whom Harmish was considering calling Naked Fool, didn’t do much of anything. He had a chain hidden amongst his cloak, attached to the manacle still on his wrist from whatever hell he had escaped from but other than that he had no weapons. None. Not even a dagger. Harmish could have stabbed herself right then for not noticing. This was stupid. It was just wrong to bring an unarmored, unshoed, unarmed person down here. She should have noticed. Why hadn’t she noticed?

 

Then the dogs were upon them. One drew close enough for the man to smack with the chain and he did so with surprising aim. The dog shook its head and stepped back, as surprised as the rest of them were. The rest weren’t so stunned though and they lunged forward, teeth and claws bearing. Disarin took a bite to the arm, lifting it to shield his face. Casslin was able to take a step back, get out of its way. Harmish herself was able to narrowly dodge the attack.

 

The bite had managed to get through Disarin’s sleeve, and it was obvious that the rabies these dogs carried were affecting him. He shook his head, trying to clear it, the illness spreading through him far too quickly to be natural. Still, he aimed his gun, and he fired, although this time he missed.

 

The dogs were fast, they were quick to evade, and they were nasty. Harmish swore. She grabbed two more of her daggers and threw them. One missed, the other hit the dog that had first been shot and took it down. It wasn’t time for a victory. It wasn’t time for anything but killing.

 

Casslin pulled out another bottle, this one hardly more than a vial. She tossed it and it burst at the feet of the first two dogs, a blinding light springing forth. The dogs whined and pawed at the earth, eyes closed and watering.

 

And the man threw up. They were all fighting and he’d just vomited. The bile hit one of the dogs but still, it wasn’t what one typically did during a fight. There was something going on, something that would mean all of their deaths, if this man wasn’t going to be any use in a fight. He straightened back up, skin flushed, more than just from humiliation. He covered his face too, as if there was something wrong, as if he could hide himself from what he’d just done.

 

The dogs in the front shook their heads, trying to clear their eyes of whatever was in that bottle. The one with the vomit on it shook in general, something new burning at it. It rushed forward though, this time getting Disarin on the chest and knocking him down. It bit at him teeth flashing, the tremors in its body not doing anything to hinder it.

 

Disarin made a sound, something between a wheeze and a grunt. He pulled out his dagger and slashed at the beasts body but it didn’t do much of anything. Organs were dripping out of the hounds gut but it didn’t care, didn’t stop lunging for his face.

 

Another dagger. This time it flew too high. Harmish couldn’t aim. She couldn’t risk missing and hitting Disarin instead. She pulled out her pick though, she could use that to knock the thing away.

 

Casslin did nothing. Again, afraid to hurt Disarin. Something had to be done though. She looked to Harmish, as if she had the answers.

 

And then there was the nameless man. He growled at the dog and it paused for a moment, looking up at him. It didn’t stop, it’s teeth once more in Disarin’s arm. Disarin was wheezing now, weakened by the disease that made him flush. The man growled again, this time getting down on hands and knees. He was a strange one, that was true, but this seemed to be working, at least somewhat.

 

But that was just the beginning. It seemed that he was getting bigger and then, the button on his cloak ripped off. His hair receded into his scalp, veins and something akin to horns growing in their place. His face, it went all wrong, jaw and skull cracking and shifting, forcing themselves forward. His teeth fell out, replaced with sharper ones. His hands grew into massive claws.

 

Casslin screamed.

 

The dogs all backed away, the ones not attacking now seeing. The one on Disarin moved too, but forgot to let go of his arm in its fear.

 

Harmish wanted to go home. The jittery anxious feeling was gone now, replaced with the need to run. It was worse than it had been with any of the other quests, as short as they had been. She’d never seen something as terrifying as this, nothing that pretended to be a soft spoken and scared young man but really some kind of monster.

 

He - it – she didn’t know, ran forward, goring the dog with its horns and knocking the carcass away. Disarin was quick to get to his feet and his shoulders were raised his pistol aimed at the dogs and then to the beast and then back. He didn’t know what to shoot.  None of them did.

 

Except for the dogs.

 

They were smart. They decided to attack the abomination in front of them, biting whatever they could get. It roared and growled and they all lowered their weapons towards him. It threw off one of the dogs and slashed at the other, shredding what little skin remained on its ribs.

 

And the dogs were dead. They were all sneaking up on the thing that had been a man just moments before, all but Disarin, who was still on the ground. It didn’t even turn to look at them, just panted and then, with a crack of its jaw, changed back. The body grew smaller and the hair became apparent once more. When the monster was gone they were left with a man, curled in on himself in the dirt, arms wrapped around his body as he shook and spasmed, muscles tensing and releasing, a thick sheen of sweat covering him. He didn’t say anything, just sat there and shook, keeping his head down. Like this, the mass of scars on his back and arms were noticeable, as if he’d been tortured for what he was. Probably deserved it too.

 

“The fuck was that?” Harmish lifted her pickaxe over her shoulder, both hands firm on it, ready to bring it down.  “The fuck are you?”

 

“I’m sorry,” the thing at their feet whimpered, “I’m sorry. I panicked and I didn’t know what to do and I just wanted to help. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry.”

 

Casslin moved to help Disarin up and the man was smart enough not to change his aim as he stood. She bandaged him up quickly enough just standing there, even though she kept her gaze on the abomination was well. He looked up and then flinched, getting even smaller once he did, afraid of the gun or of the look on their faces, it wasn’t clear.

 

“I’m going back.” Harmish cocked her hip. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I’m not going to sit around here and discuss it. Don’t want to be killed by some monster, do I?” He flinched at that too. She didn’t feel bad about it. She wanted him to know how she felt about him. “Get up.”

 

He did so, shakily, and he swooned slightly once he was on his feet, as if he were too exhausted to stand on them. He kept his hands together in front of him and played with his fingers, nervous. He wouldn’t look at them again, or lower his shoulders.

 

“You’re taking the lead this time,” she decided, “I don’t want you to try anything, not even shit yourself, okay?”

 

He nodded, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re very sorry. Now get going.”

 

He did, and as he did he slowly began to keep his footing, stop stumbling, and after that he even stopped shaking. He didn’t look at them though, didn’t even pause to pick up his cloaks. That was Disarin, never nice but always greedy, who picked it up. Harmish didn’t know why, it wasn’t worth anything, not to a highwayman or anyone else, but he folded it up neatly enough and tucked it under his shoulder, even holstering his gun for a moment to do so.

 

Idiot move.

 

The made it out of the Warrens without any other encounters. The abomination just did as he was told and apologized whenever he was spoken to. Harmish was thinking of killing him just to make him shut up, regardless of what he was going to do to them. Now she knew why Oafsin and Ursa had been so resolved on not coming with him.

 


	5. Unplumbed Dimension of Delirium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV the Vestal.

One comes out of the sanitarium and another goes in. She’d been there, helped the new healer take their ruffian there, ignored the crazed look in his eye. Casslin had told her what had happened, why their venture had lasted less than an hour. Ursa couldn’t say she was surprised. She knew the moment she laid eyes on it, the A pressed to its face, that it was danger. It could snivel and cry all it liked, she would not be distracted into thinking it was a person.

 

She watched it, while in camp. It drew in the dirt with a stick, hunched over, showing the world its scars. Pitiful at best. It seemed more afraid of retribution being done upon it than the horrors it had committed. Sure it had helped this time but what about the next? What about when it lost control? Who would be the first it would kill?

 

She turned to Oafsin, sharpening her long sword. Her attention was also on the abomination. There was a large bandage on her cheek, from where one of the pigmen’s hooks had pierced her. She would not be wanting to return to Warrens anytime soon. That was where they’d lost Mindol as well, she’d dragged the body out herself, while Letharg carried Oafsin. Letharg hadn’t been seen since.

 

They sat together and they prayed for their companions return, their future endeavors, and the hell down below them, where they waded every week.

 

After a time they both noticed the man in gold watching them, face hidden behind a dented but still guarding mask. Ursa gave him a small smile and the man approached them, sitting down to make their line a triangle, and joined them in prayer. He was speaking his allowed, but it was quite and muted behind his mask. It was not a hindrance at all.

 

“Thank you,” he nodded when they were done, hands no longer clasped before them. “I have not been able to pray with company since I left the colony.”

 

There were bandages wrapped around his arms and feet, and his clothes, aside from the shining armor, were mostly rags. His colony must have been for lepers.

 

“That’s a pretty nice sword you’ve got there.” Oafsin had enough tack not to ask about the colony and instead nodded to the sword at his side. It was thick and as shiny a gold as his armor. It looked more ceremonial than useful.

 

“It was given to me for my mission,” he explained, patting it. “when I am done, the sword will be returned to the colony for the next champion to take, so the mission can continue.”

 

“And what is your mission?”

 

“To destroy the evil in this world.”

 

Ursa scoffed. It was impossible. She had been down below, in the ruins, had seen the machination their employers ancestor had let loose. Their task would never be complete.

 

“A good goal,” Oafsin nodded, “I see why you came here. There is more evil in this small hamlet than any place I’ve seen.”

 

“And we’ve allowed some to infiltrate us.” Ursa crossed her arms where she sat, making eyes at the abomination where it sat, sniveling near the fire, someone else’s blanket pulled tight around its shoulders. She was sure she’d seen it before.

 

Oafsin put her hand on Ursa’s shoulder, “We’re keeping a good eye on it, don’t worry. We won’t let it corrupt us.”

 

Casslin was approaching it though, her mask removed and dangling over her chest. She had a bottle under one arm and a small sack in the other. “I’d think we already had.” Ursa noted, watching how their plague doctor sat with the abomination and shared wine and meal with it. They’d have to keep an eye on her as well, make sure the corruption didn’t spread.

 

She almost wanted to get up, go over there, and pull the naïve girl away from the creature. She didn’t though, she had to be kind, had to be humble. Her God would expect as much if not more from her. She would talk to Miss Indera about it though, next she saw her.

 

“Oafsin,” Oafsin extended a hand to the leper. Ursa hadn’t even asked him his name, had been too preoccupied. She’d have to pray from forgiveness later, spending too much time focusing on evil to make use of the good.

 

“I’m Telisse,” he took her hand in his, what was left of his fingers hidden inside of thick leather gloves.

 

They sat and spoke for a long time, but Ursa kept feeling her attention pulled back to the abomination, sitting there, pretending to be a person. It spoke softly with Casslin, with what could only be words of seduction to its nefarious ways, but the girl didn’t seem surprised or at all concerned.

 

She got up, leaving the conversation without explanation. Oafsin grabbed her by the wrist though, stopped her from confronted Casslin and saving the poor girl from her fate with that thing.

 

“I suggest you mind your own affairs,” Oafsin reminded her, “Get yourself to the church and pray for forgiveness for your hastiness. You know that we are going out tomorrow, yes? No need to get yourself stressed out. Casslin will be joining us, you can talk with her then.”

 

Ursa nodded. She didn’t want to have to wait but she would if she had to. The church would, at least, keep her safe from that thing until she had to interact with it again. She walked quickly, not speaking to the few townspeople who still remained with all those horrors climbing up from the depths.

 

The church was a sad dilapidated thing, the walls at bad angles and the iconography crooked. The pews were in fine enough shape, worn and only a few remaining, any too damaged dismantled and used for building repairs.

 

At the front there was the caretaker of their employers affairs. He was disturbing, with his grin missing teeth, but at least he was good enough to be praying in such a holy place. At least, that’s what she thought until he started cackling at her.

 

“What’s so funny?” she demanded.

 

“You,” he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “coming here, thinking that your god will help you here. There are no gods here, only the ones down below. You really must be quite the fool to still desire such patronage.”


	6. Excise the Fungal Tumors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the Weald with the Crusader's POV

They started where the others had left off, finding the spot easily with the remains of dead dogs. Too late to see if any of the meat was palatable. There’s been signs of others too, other dogs and insects and beasts, sniffing around, taking what they could, already there was a film growing over the flesh, fungus growing out. If it weren’t a waste of a torch, Oafsin would have burned the pile right then.

 

They kept going. The Telisse stuck close to her, let her lead. They were both good in the front, well armored and well armed, Casslin and Ursa, not so much. They would be safer behind, taking care of any wounds along the way. Ursa had her hand on the young plague doctor’s arm all the way, whispering to her. Oafsin didn’t have to guess what they were talking about.

 

A few spiders got in their way but they were taken care of easily, hard exoskeletons good against the elements but worth nothing against the sharpness of their blades. Casslin was quick and agile, more so than she would seem under all of her layers, tossing explosive vials and exposing them to emboldening fumes.

 

Everything was going fine. They seemed to have enough supplies for their journey, as well as enough torches. Telisse was surprisingly funny and would make jokes as they went, keeping them all in high spirits. It was his first time in the Weald, the horrors hadn’t tainted his sense of humor quite yet.

 

Then they stumbled upon the bodies. Casslin gasped and put her hands to her mouth before remembering that it was hidden behind her mask. Ursa and Telisse both whispered quick prayers. Oafsin was the only one who kept her sword at the ready. The bodies were old, the skin tight against the skin. They were dressed like bandits, if the scraps of armor were anything to go by. She didn’t trust even the dead in this place.

 

Good thing too. They were only about halfway through the corpses when they sprang into life, pustules of fungus erupting from cadavers as if they were hatching. The heads of three of them were engulfed in the mass of a mushroom top, while one of the worse off ones, spine broken and head cut clean from the shoulders, became whole once more, albeit in the wrong angle, red stocks shooting up from it.

 

“Get the red one!” Oafsin called out, brandishing her sword towards it. Too late though, the yellow fungals swiping at her companions. Casslin was quick enough to dodge it but Ursa was not, bones turned to barbs cutting at the barely exposed skin. Telisse just stood there, arms spread, and allowed the undead to scrape its barbs against his armor, know that it would do more to protect him than dodging would.

 

The red one must have known that she was targeting it. When she drew close enough to strike the stocks blooms, something akin to pollen spurting out of the soft holes alongside them. She was caught in it, coughing, the stuff clinging to her, as the undead scurried away from her, behind the slower and more offensive yellow fungals.

 

When she could see, eyes watering from under her visor, all of the yellow fungals were heading for her, ready to strike. She swung at them hard, slicing through the first two with her sword. They made a squelching noise under her blade. Telisse was right behind her, finishing off the one closest to her with one hard hit.

 

Casslin threw another vial, stunning the next wave with a bright burst, the contents mixing explosively with oxygen. Ursa threw up her mace, praying quick and urgent, for their shared God to ease Telisse’s pain. Oafsin hadn’t realized how much he’d been hurt after all, the bandages under his armor turning dark with blood, the metal hitting skin hard enough to cut through all the gauze. Ursa’s prayer didn’t seem to do much to help.

 

The fungus didn’t have eyes, it didn’t care much about blindness, but the surprise of the light still had them surprised, possibly from the smell of it or some chemical component. The red one was fine and rushed forward, trying to spray Oafsin again with it’s terrible pollen. She knew it was coming though, dodged with ease. It tried to escape again but as it left, she pierced through it with her sword, skewering it and ending it’s blighted attacks.

 

Telisse swung again, that single chop, finishing off the second one that Oafsin had hit before it had gotten fully back into the fight. Casslin tossed a bottle to him after, but he wasn’t paying attention, and the thin glass, thinner than most, shattered on him. The liquid turned his bandages dark but the fluid must have had topical components for, as it dripped down his chest, it seemed to make quick work of the wounds.

 

Ursa threw up her mace once more, spoke another prayer and, this time, called forth a bolt of lightning. It should have fried the last of their undead opponents where it stood but instead it just fizzled, doing next to nothing.

 

It struck. It went for Oafsin again but she was foolish, distracted, trying to figure out what was going on with Ursa, why her prayers were being heeded so poorly. It couldn’t hit her through her plate mail but the force of it, pushing against her, knocked the armor back around her, smacked her from the inside. A rib snapped at the contact and she could feel herself bleeding internally, the skin around the wound swelling terribly.

 

She didn’t bother with another hit, just pulled back far enough that she could make a prayer of her own, getting down on her knees. She could feel the warmth of her God, a caressing hand, and while the rib was not miraculously put back into place, she no longer felt the swelling or the bleeding.

 

It took too long, she hadn’t even noticed that the fight was over. Casslin did quick work of looting the bodies, although it seemed they only held the coins that the bandits had had in life. Telisse was standing there, swaying gently, checking over his wounds. Casslin had done enough to tide the bays of death, but he was definitely not alright. Ursa was even worse.

 

The vestal had retreated from the others and, as Oafsin approached her, it was obvious that she was shaking. She was doing a good job hiding it and she jumped when she saw Oafsin there, not having seen her walk over.

 

“Are you alright, sister?” Oafsin asked, “This is not the time for light attacks.”

 

“I know.” Ursa’s voice was shaking as much as the rest of her.

 

“Tell me what’s bothering you.”

 

“God isn’t here,” she was on the verge of crying, “He’s abandoned us. How else would such evil be in this world?”

 

That wasn’t true, Oafsin had prayed and been answered. She put a hand on Ursa’s shoulder, stilling her. “He is. And he is watching over us. You’re having a small weakness of faith, a lapse in judgment. Trust in him fully and all will be well.”

 

“The caretaker…”

 

“Do not listen to that man. He has been damaged by this place and his mind is not that to comfort.”

 

Ursa nodded. She didn’t seem convinced but it would have to do for now. Oafsin led her back to the group, so as to continue their exploration. Telisse had stopped his inspection and Casslin had stopped her thievery, and now the pair of them were working together to draw out their journey on a piece of parchment. Much of the path had been lost and new ones found. They had to make a map to keep the Weald at bay.

 

“Let’s go,” Oafsin ordered, keeping her hand on Ursa’s shoulder, “It’s dark enough without it being nightfall. I want to be back at the hamlet before then.


	7. Corruption has Soaked the Soil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Leper's POV. They find something in the Weald that really shouldnt be there. Is it the beginning of a plotline?

Telisse was a leader, he belonged in the front. Being behind wasn’t what he was used to and every time he swung his sword he worried about hitting Oafsin in the back. She knew the way though, knew what to worry about. She was the one who told them to bandage their hands before searching the holes in gnarled old trees and the one who who knew when everyone was hungry or what to take for the different ills that they faced.

 

Ofasin was distracted, too. She was distracted by Ursa, who was muttering to herself and looking up to the heavens. She was a good leader, took good care of her people, but sometimes you have to send people home, keep going without them. This was one of those times. There were four of them but only two were actually good in a fight. Casslin could escort Ursa back to the hamlet.

 

He didn’t say any of that. He wouldn’t dare. It wasn’t his place. For the moment, his place was behind Oafsin, following, keeping a steady eye on their surroundings.

 

The Weald wasn’t as bad as he had expected. From the stories he’d thought they’d be fighting monsters every step of the way. There had been insects, yes, and the battle against fungus, but it seemed the larger threat here was from traps and disease; getting lost. The forest itself, overgrown and lush, was actually quite nice to look at, peaceful if he didn’t have his heckles raised for any sign of ambush. This was a place of evil and he could feel that in his bones, feel darkness writhing just underfoot. Once that was defeated and The Weald was safe once more, this would be a lovely space.

 

A sound and they all froze, eyes wide and searching. There was movement amongst the trees, something trying to be sneaky, but they all knew that it was there. Multiple somethings, and one of them was big.

 

“We have no desire to fight you!” Oafsin called out to the trees, “Make your way past and we’ll make ours.”

 

The big one laughed. There was something human in the sound. If Telisse didn’t know any better he’d think this just another traveler, not some corrupted monstrosity.

 

“We don’t have anything of worth,” Oafsin continued. It wasn’t a lie. They’d only just scraped a few coins and herbs along the way, nothing anyone would die over. “so just let us be.”

 

The laughter grew and finally the men hiding amongst the trees stepped out. They were men, surprisingly, wearing scraps of armor and carrying old weapons. They seemed to be of the same party as those who had been taken over by the fungus but they were far more alive. The big one though, he couldn’t have been human, some kind of abomination. Like the one that he’d traveled with, who had been quiet and frightened by every movement, but still a monster, still to be shunned. This one though, had every reason to be and they were all obvious.

 

Casslin knew that they weren’t going to back down, they all did, but she was the first to act, throwing one of her exploding bottles at the big one, blinding him for a moment. Oafsin tried to get past him, to attack the smaller men with their guns, but he was too big and he took the brunt of both her heavy swings. He intended targets just laughed, seeing as how the big one, either their leader or their pet, didn’t seem to notice the hit, was just rubbing at his eyes to remove the brightness. They both fired and they knew their companion, could move around him easily.

 

They all tried to get away, to dodge the barrage of bullets, but with two sets, so close together, it was impossible for them to come out unscathed. Telisse threw himself in front of those behind him, tried to take the brunt of the damage, but he could hear the women behind him cry out in the pain of buckshot. Oafsin took some directly in her arm, but she just growled through the pain of it. For Telisse it just pushed into his armor, some minor shrapnel getting though his bandages and to him, but the push was the biggest problem. Casslin’s potion had done a fine job closing the wound, but this motion opened it all back up.

 

He’d have to finish this quickly. He raced forward, tried to get them, but they hid behind their massive companion once more. He struck that one instead and this time, he did seem to feel the damage dealt.

 

Ursa prayed, the words sounding like a whine, and threw her mace up towards the heavens. A light surged through Telisse, looked like it went through all of them, and the flesh around their wounds started to stitch together. God was on their side it seemed.

 

“Let’s wear down the big one,” Telisse decided, “We can’t do anything about the others.”

 

Oafsin nodded in response. Casslin didn’t listen. She tossed one of her bottles, bigger than the others and filled with a green fluid. As it smashed between the gunmen’s feet, the liquid splattered onto them. It didn’t matter that they wore armor, the stench of it made its way to their noses and the wetness seeped to their skin. They paled and went ashy, one of them even shaking as a fever crawled over him.

 

Oafsin brought her sword up through the giant’s jaw, trying to get to his brain. He was too thick, survived, but not happily. The wound looked awful, so much blood and saliva pouring down his chest.  His companions, sick as they were, raised their guns again, ready to fire. The big one didn’t have a gun and he took initiative, slamming down his whip over all of them. Armor took the brunt of it, but where the whip had struck left deep gashes that burned and bled. 

 

Telisse was feeling close to his limit. He didn’t want to worry the others, but he didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

 

The guns fired. He dodged one of them, took the other in the ankle, sending him sprawling. He was sure that the others had been hurt as well, but he couldn’t see them. All he could see was the dirt he’d landed in, thorned plants growing and trying to pierce him through his garb, and the blood that was spilling from him like a sweet wine.

 

He took a moment to heal himself, to do as Ursa did, his faith strong and his words ringing true. He was hurt terribly but he could feel the righteousness of their shared God wrap around him, seal the wounds on his person. It wasn’t much but the divine was far away and they had to be thankful for any small miracles.

 

When he turned, the large one was dead and one of the men behind him was closely following, even more sick and now also wounded. The body of the big one was smoking, as if struck by lightning. From his distance though, only a few feet but still enough to change angle, he saw something behind, just down the path; something that filled him with a sense of horror.

 

The two gunmen were panicking without their large meat shield, and they were both trying to attack with small daggers and trying to step back and away before any retaliation could reach them. Oafsin didn’t bother dodging, bringing up her gauntlets to swat the blades away was enough.

 

Telisse returned to the battle, but it seemed already done. The illness that Casslin had caused dragged them down, made them slow and weak. He bludgeoned the one in the back, finishing him off. The rest knew that the fight was over, even if the remaining gunmen would deny it. They all spent their time healing themselves instead of fighting. The disease ended the man’s life with them hardly noticing.

 

Telisse still wasn’t feeling well, could feel his wounds seep unhappily. He tapped Casslin on the shoulder though, making her pause in her looting. These bandits had far more than the last. He pointed at the dark thing, and he couldn’t tell her expression through her mask but he was certain it wasn’t good. The entire thing made him feel cold and alone and deeply deeply wrong.

 

Oafsin followed her gaze and both of them headed towards it. Telisse didn’t want anything to do with it but having someone else of the faith alongside him was better than nothing. The item itself was nothing more than a stone, polished and poorly cut, about the size of a human torso. It was suspended on a golden frame, the lowest point safe from hitting the ground.

 

“This isn’t our job.” Oafsin was shaking her head, stepping back from it, not taking her eyes off it. “This isn’t right it shouldn’t be here. That’s a shrine. An Eldritch shrine.”

 

“We need to destroy it,” Telisse pulled his sword back out, ready to swing.

 

“No!” she practically shouted, grabbing his whip bloody arm to stop him. “we don’t have the resources to deal with this. We have to go back. Map the area, send the next team in with holy water.”

 

Telisse relinquished his aim, returned his sword to its sheath and nodded. Yes, they were here to explore, not to deal with things like this. He just hoped the next team would have some sense of faith amongst them.

 


	8. Experimental Techniques and Tonics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> back around to the Highwayman. 
> 
> Thank you anonymous donor for donating $9 for me to write 3,000 more words!

As much as he hated being in the sanitarium, he hated being out and about with the fools and the louts that were always hounding for information, what was out there, if they were even safe. He pushed past them and, with glare, they stopped pestering. Arriving at the small encampment just on the edge of town, he was rewarded with kinder smiles, faces that knew him, and heroes that were worth his merit. A few asked him how he was, if he felt better, but none of them asked what had happened in the Weald. Yes or no questions, ever pertinent, ever understanding, they were fine with his nods and shakes, unwilling to give them anything more. 

When he reached the center of it, noting who was missing and who was left, he found things far less kind than he’d expected. The strange newcomer, the one that wasn’t human, was sitting on the ground, next to a log. It was pretty obvious that Harmish was guarding him, sitting there with her pick axe over her shoulder, ready to swing at all times. The creature wasn’t even doing anything wrong, just sitting there, staring at the ground, playing absently with the broken cuffs around his wrists. 

Disarin sat next to Harmish, leaning one shoulder against her. She was obnoxious and still had a slight hint of nobility when she let it out but, out of all of them, she was the one he had most in common with. Two criminals surrounded by good folk, some religious, some not, trying to make their lives mean something, even if that only came through death. 

“You’re back.” She didn’t look at him, her gaze was still on the creature that pretended they weren’t staring at him. “You think you’re ready to go back out there?”

Disarin shrugged. It didn’t matter if he was ready or not, he would go if he was told to. It was easier to do what he was instructed to do. 

“I talked to Indera, she said that I should shut up and mind my own business. Said you’re in charge of that thing.” The creature flinched at the vile cruelty of the word. “Said you’re in charge of if it leaves or stays, lives or dies. So, what’s it going to be?”

The man had stopped moving, was listening intently. He did not turn though, pretended that he wasn’t eavesdropping.

Disarin shook his head.

“What? You’re not serious, right? You can’t want that thing to stay with us!” 

He nodded. 

Her face turned red and exasperation made her voice take on a higher pitch. “It could kill us all! You saw what it became! What’s to stop it from killing us all in our sleep? Do you know what you’re doing?”

He nodded again and uncrossed his arms, letting one hand slip down to touch the man on the top of his head. The unnamed man jumped at the contact, seemed ready to squirm away, but when Disarin’s hand went from a touch to a stroke, working its way through tangles in what was left in the man’s hair, he seemed to calm down a bit. There was still stress in his shoulders, still tension in the hard line of his jaw. 

“What even are you, huh?” Harmish asked, kicking him lightly with her foot. He jumped at that too, as if the kick was real, not merely a nudge. 

He grew small, almost as small as he had when he’d first changed back and now Disarin noticed that he wasn’t wearing the cloak that he’d picked up in the Weald but was, instead, wrapping in Disarin’s blanket once more. Disarin smiled slightly, underneath his scarf, at that. At least he’d given the stranger a small bit of comfort.

“I don’t… I don’t know.” The man started to draw in the dirt with one fingernail. “I was taken in when I was young and things… Things were done to me. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try.” Harmish ordered. 

The man sighed, “I was in a prison, of sorts, and the guards were scientists and researchers. They were trying to do what happened here but only for smaller things, simple beats, bringing them out from the other place and making them real. They needed vessels. I was one of them.”

“Why were you in a prison?”

“I don’t know. I was very young.”

Harmish looked over at Disarin and he shrugged, unable to continue the conversation. 

“And now you’re a monster,” she continued. The man shrank away under Disarin’s calming hand. 

“I… yes. They made me into a monster,” his voice was wavering, watery and hurt, the past being brought up and turned into such short sentences, far too simplified. “and then they did everything they could to study it, see what would bring it out, how to control it. Anger, pain, adrenaline, trigger the change. I’m not human, I don’t know how to be a human anymore. I never asked for this, you see? I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Disarin’s hand trailed down from his hair down to his jaw and used his calloused fingers to turn the man, making him look up at his two guards. His eyes were wet and his nose red. He was trying not to show how much this had hurt him, trying to be strong in front of them, as if they didn’t all have ghouls in their pasts that haunted them. Disarin let his thumb slide up and wipe away some of the moisture at the corner of his eye. He hoped that that would be enough to show that Disarin didn’t see him as only a monster. He was doing the best he could, they all were. 

“I escaped. They caught me and branded me, so that if I ever managed it again people would know and they’d be able to send me back, to know that I am an abomination. The pain of it, I couldn’t control this thing inside of me. I killed every one of them that came in my path. I had to escape.”

Disarin nodded. He understood. He’d been to prison and, while it hadn’t been anywhere near as terrible, he knew how strong the urge was to destroy everything on your path to freedom.

“It’s not here for you though,” the man promised, “I won’t let the monster hurt any of you.”


	9. Trouble Yourself Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casslin returns to the Hamlet
> 
> visit me on tumblr too! whatsanapocalae and whatsanartpocalae

Casslin was glad to see the Hamlet again. Telisse and Oafsin went straight to Indera, deep in the Hamlet itself and she and Ursa were free to rest and relax wherever they wished in the Hamlet. Ursa did so by going to the tavern, which was interesting, wrong, and Casslin felt uneasy about it. She was a woman of great faith, but something had shaken that. She wasn’t the kind of person to go get herself drunk. 

That left Casslin alone to go to their encampment. She wanted to sleep for a week, that was certain, having been out on every mission that came up since she’d arrived. She wanted to brew to work on her concoctions and she wanted to sit down and relax. She wanted to talk to Harmish too. 

Harmish was with Disarin and it was good to see him healthy, but Casslin felt a strange pang of jealousy when she saw the two of them together. It wasn’t right, she knew that, and she didn’t know any of them all that well, she shouldn’t think of herself as exceptional when everyone else around was far more qualified than she was. And everyone was closer friends as well. 

She sighed and headed towards them anyway, finding the strange man on the ground between them. She wasn’t walking in on a date then, that was good, and she let herself relax a bit more as she wandered over, sitting on the log beside Harmish. 

“You made it back.” Harmish smiled at her. 

She pulled off her mask. Here it was safe. She had been worried about sickness, but that was mostly in the Weald itself and they had good healthcare here. They’d taken care of Disarin quickly enough. Harmish made a small little gasp at the reveal as Casslin took a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe away the sweat that had accumulated down there. 

“You have a face.” The stranger said from the ground, quiet and small, as if he’d already said enough. 

“Yeah, of course I have a face.” Casslin chuckled, “And yeah, I made it back. I’m thinking people are going to be sent out tomorrow, Tesslin and Oafsin found something out there that shouldn’t be.”

Harmish leaned back on the log, stretching her back. Her pickaxe was behind her, leaning against it. She wasn’t ready for a fight but she was ready to be ready for one. Casslin wondered what that was about. “Of course you did, why wouldn’t there be something out there? Nothing can ever be simple out here.” 

“It’s probably going to be you guys,” she added. 

Disarin nodded, not at all bothered by the fact that it would be up to them. 

“So let’s see,” Harmish started counting on her fingers, “it’s going to be me, Disarin, him, and…”

“I’m not a him,” the man at their feet was so soft spoken that no one seemed to hear. After years of saying something similar though, Casslin was trained to hear it. She was sure she could hear that tone and wordage in the middle of a battle. 

“And who else?” 

Disarin shrugged and pointed in the way of the road. It had been almost a week since they’d come to the hamlet, it was possibly time again for the stagecoach to come through and they’d hire on someone else.

Harmish kept talking, stuff about planning. Disarin never said anything, but Casslin was pretty sure that he just didn’t talk. She just hoped that she wouldn’t be called in to go out there again. She needed a break. 

At the moment though, she slid off of the log to sit in the dirt, her dress already filthy from the Weald, in front of the stranger. They were timid, worried, and they knew that she had seen their true form. They looked like they wanted to shrink away and vanish entirely. 

“So, not a he, then?” she opened up the conversation but they grew a bit pale and scooted back, resting their damaged back against Disarin’s leg, “Hey, it’s okay. People didn’t believe me when I said that either. ‘She’ then?” 

They shook their head, still quiet, still not looking at her. She wanted to touch them, but there was so much damage in this person, she didn’t want to make things worse. There was the monster too. They seemed to be in control of it, enough anyway, only pulling it out during a fight. 

“Hey, I’m not judging you, it’s okay. Not a ‘he’, not a ‘she’, so what do you use for yourself?”

“The people at the prison, they used ‘it’.” Just saying that out loud sent a shiver through them, so that was no good. 

“Well, we’re not going to call you an ‘it’ and if anyone calls you ‘that’ or a ‘thing’ they’ll have to answer to me personally. But we have to call you something. You haven’t even given us a name.”

“Don’t have one.”

“Then we’ll work on getting you one of those as well.” She thought on it, went through all of her old colleagues and friends. She was always good at finding others like herself and they had stuck together, staying safe that way. “Do you have a gender?”

They shrugged. 

“I’m guessing that’s a no,” she chuckled. There was a word for that. She raked her mind, trying to remember. “I know there’s a label… a something… a-“

“I like aye,” aye interrupted, “it’s fitting.”

“Aye pronouns, got it.” She smiled then and aye smiled back. They weren’t normal pronouns, but that didn’t matter. She could work with this. “And we’ll find you a name, one that you like.”

She stood up though, stretching and popping her back. It wasn’t even night but she could feel the heavy weight of sleep tug at her. “I’m going to bed, alright? I’ll see you all in the morning.”

She only went a couple of steps before a hand was on her shoulder. She should have heard Harmish coming, she wasn’t being all that sneaky. She turned though and found the woman smiling, hat pushed up so more of her face, including a streak of dirt over one cheek was more visible. 

“Hey,” she said. 

“Hello?” Casslin replied. Harmish seemed strangely nervous, not quite herself. 

“I just want to say, um,” she bit her lip. It was a good look for her. “you shouldn’t wear your mask around here so much, yeah? You have a good face.”

Casslin almost cackled at that, such poor delivery. It wouldn’t have been good though, not with how red Harmish’s face had gotten. Instead she just clasped her on the shoulder and thanked her. “I like your face too.”

Harmish grew even more impossibly red.


	10. An Uneasy Companionship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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Aye. Aye liked that. It fit in a way that a lot of things hadn’t and, sitting there by the fire, everyone else asleep, aye felt more at peace than aye had in a long time. People weren’t happy with aym, some of them hated aym, but aye hadn’t been sent away and Casslin had helped aym and promised to help aym find a name. Even in the darkness, the world getting worse by the minute around them all, aye felt better than aye had in a long time. 

But after a moment aye weren’t alone and Disarin was there beside aym, stripped down to the barest of layers, a blanket around his shoulders that looked thin and worn out, and in far worst condition than the one that aye had found upon aymself. For a moment, aye wondered if Disarin had come to trade, to take the better of blankets away from aym. Aye wouldn’t have blamed him. 

Disarin held out his hand. He was still wearing his scarf, hiding his face. Aye didn’t know what he was thinking with that on, couldn’t read his expression. 

Aye let ayr shoulders droop and started to pull the blanket down from ayr shoulders. Disarin shook his head though and thrust his hand out again, a bit more sternly.

“I’m sorry,” aye whimpered, unable to obey, “I don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Disarin rolled his eyes, obvious in the firelight, and leaned down, taking ayr hand gently yet firmly in his own and then standing again, pulling ayr up with him. Ayr mouth felt dry. Aye didn’t know why he was holding ayr hand, what he wanted with aym. He didn’t offer a response though. 

He led them over towards the large tent, the one that had been set up as a series of barracks. Everyone inside was sleep, none of them responding at all to Disarin leading an abomination into their midst’s. It was strange and wrong, aye wasn’t allowed to be around so many people, wasn’t supposed to be treated this kindly. Aye didn’t know how to respond to it. 

There was a cot that was obviously supposed to be slept it, what with its pillow indented and one remaining blanket a mess at the other side, and an empty one beside it. There was a pillow in it, stiff and new, but there were no blankets or anything else for comfort in it. 

Disarin pointed to the empty cot and then let go of ayr hand, going to the one that was obviously his own. Aye stared at the cot and then back over to Disarin. Aye wasn’t allowed a bed. Aye didn’t know what was wanted of aym. How was aye supposed to earn this? 

Disarin was watching aye those and, when it became obvious that aye wasn’t going to do what was expected of aym, he got back out of bed. This time he put a hand on either of ayr shoulders and gently pushed until aye were sitting on the bed. It was much more comfortable than the ground and far far more comfortable than the cell that aye had spent so many years in. 

Aye were frantic, uncertain, and that was starting to became a very familiar sensation. Aye didn’t know what to do with ayr hands, or what to say, or what to do. Aye wanted Disarin to do something, to say something, to make aym earn something as magnanimous as a cot. Aye looked at the others, all asleep, wondering what they would think when they woke up and found aym there. How they would all panic and want aym to leave. It was no secret that most of them didn’t like aym. 

One of Disarin’s hands rose up and took ayr cheek in hand, the palm soft where it had been protected by his leather gloves. He was standing over aym and aye couldn’t see his face, but there was a motion and then harsh skin, cracked and broken, was against ayr scalp, on the apex of the raised A in aye skin. The kiss was short and quick and then the scarf was pulled back up and Disarin crawled into his bed once more. 

Aye watched him for a moment, feeling heat in ayr cheeks and a palpitation in ayr heart. This was even more confusing, more inappropriate for someone to do foe something like aym. He put his hands together as if for prayer and then shoved them beneath his head, keeping an eye on aym until aye finally lay down. It was only then that he allowed himself to fall asleep. 

The pillow was cold but plush, even through the starched fabric, and ayr head felt like it was going to fall through it. Aye knew that people slept with pillows and beds and blankets, but aye’d never had all three before. Sometimes, when aye’d been good, aye’d been allowed a blanket in the prison, but never a pillow and something soft to sleep on. 

It was strange, unusual, and it took what felt like forever for aym to fall asleep. The comfort was so foreign, aye though aye would fall straight through the cot beneath aym.


End file.
